Miles To Go Before We Sleep
by xxredwineandambiencexx
Summary: They call her girl out of time. It's meant to be playful, a nod to her time spent under the ice for the past few decades. All it does is serve as a reminder of everything that she's lost, including him. A Marvel AU Feat. Klaus as The Winter Soldier and Caroline as Captain America.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries or its characters. If I did, The Originals would never have happened, Kol would be alive and happily causing mayhem somewhere, and Klaus and Caroline would be travelling the world and sexing it up.**

 **Don't own the characters associated with MCU, although they're a constant source of distress.**

* * *

 _The woods are lovely dark and deep,_

 _But I have promises to keep,_

 _And miles to go before I sleep_

 _\- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost_

* * *

 **New York City, 2015**

 _Click, click. Click, click._

Caroline tries not to flinch against the onslaught of photographers, each of them documenting every moment of this press conference, every minute expression on her face so they can pick it apart later, dissect her emotions and how she's feeling. They don't need to know that it reminds her of gunshots, bullets singing through the air, finding their mark with a relentless and unerring accuracy.

She blinks away the chaos, breathes in and out deeply, trying to root herself in the present. The red haze around her vision fades away bit by bit, colour bleeding back into her world.

"Ms Forbes! How does it feel being out of the ice, waking up to a world that's completely different to your own?" One of the more assertive reporters calls out over the din. The room falls silent like the flip of a switch, leaning forward with bated breath, and pens poised over notepads, strange devices held aloft in her direction.

Caroline clears her throat before leaning towards the microphone.

"It's different." She allows with a wan smile. That's all that they're going to get. They don't need to know about the horror that she felt when she realised what year it was- that all of her friends and family were probably dead and gone, six feet under and bones turned to dust. A memory, lost beneath the relentless march of history, names that no one would ever bother to remember.

They don't need to know that she wakes up screaming every night, body drenched in sweat, hair matted to her forehead and neck as she accepts with a sort of cold finality that she's alone, destined to live out the rest of her life in a time and a city that has changed beyond her recognition.

They don't have to know about Nik. Caroline squeezes her eyes shut against an onslaught of more clicking and more flashes, stomach twisting at the thought of her lover, her last memory of him falling, falling, falling, and for all of her super enhanced strength and agility powerless to do anything to save him.

She should have flung herself into that abyss after him. Sleeping in the snow, the white drift covering her softly, masking the blood and her battered body would have been far better. At least they would have been curled around each other in the same grave, not torn apart by the decades and the unrelenting march of time.

The mood in the room shifts, some of the reporters perhaps realising that they've touched on a nerve. Some of them are staring at her curiously, wondering how far they can push before she _snaps_ ; showing off that inhuman strength that they're not sure _really_ exists, but surely must be sitting there, just below the skin.

To them, Captain America is a myth. Once a rallying point for the United States Armed Forces during WWII, now a girl out of time. In a time where propaganda was a battle that was just as desperately fought between the two sides, she had been a shining example of what exactly to do.

She's the history book come to life, the character from the pages of a well worn textbook. Somehow, she, Caroline Forbes, doubts that she's living up to their expectations of her.

"What's your favourite thing about the 21st century?" Another reporter, a younger girl asks her a little sympathetically as if she _gets_ that this is the last place on Earth right now that Caroline possibly wants to be.

She has to rack her brain for the answer to that particular question, because so many things are foreign and unfamiliar to her.

"Microwaves." Caroline replies with a quick smile. "It always used to take forever to heat food back in the 1930's."

There are a few titters that echo around the room before an awkward silence settles around the space once more. Another reporter raises his hand.

"You've spoken extensively about your experiences since coming out of the ice. But what about the circumstances that led to it?"

Caroline leans forward, fingers tapping against the table beneath her.

"You know the story." She replies, the slightest edge biting into her tone as she meets the eyes of the reporter evenly.

The reporter looks nervous, eyes flickering towards the notepad in his lap before back to her. It looks as if there's some sort of internal debate raging, deciding whether he has enough balls to actually ask the question that's on the tip of his tongue.

"Yes well um…" He swallows audibly before seeming to find his composure once more. "Can you confirm if putting the plane into the ice was a suicide attempt? Brought about by the loss of your friend Sergeant Niklaus Mikaelson?"

Her fingers bite into the wood of the table, the delicate wood splintering and crushing beneath her grip as her teeth grind together.

"This press conference is over." Caroline manages to bite out as she stands, finally taking a step away from the table.

"You just had to ask the suicide question didn't you Thompson?" A voice echoes from the back of the room. As one, the reporters swivel, cameras pointed away from her and towards the raven haired man with the bright blue eyes.

He's wearing what looks to be an expensive suit, if the cut and cloth were anything to go by. Caroline watches as he manages to part the crowd with nothing more than a charming smile and a well placed elbow. It's not until he draws closer that Caroline realises just who the man is. Damon Salvatore was a hard man to ignore.

"Captain Forbes." Damon gives her a sharp salute, eyes brimming with mirth as he gives her a languid onceover. It's surprisingly not disrespectful; although rumour would have it he's in a fairly committed relationship of his own. "It's an honour to meet you. I've heard a lot about you from my grandmother bless her soul."

"Lyanna Salvatore's grandson." Caroline replies faintly, giving him a quick glance. It's eerie, the resemblance that Damon has to his grandmother, right down to the way his dark hair curls at his temples and his chin juts out defiantly.

She'd known Lyanna during the war, the other woman friends with her mother. She'd been a scientist in a time where women weren't expected to have jobs, and she'd also been one of her biggest advocates when they were deciding what to do with her after she'd been injected with the serum.

Her father had wanted to ship her as far away from New York as possible, somewhere down South. It had been Lyanna who had fought so hard to have her sent to Europe, especially after she'd found out the depths of her feelings for Nik, the need to see him again and make sure that he's _okay._ She'd been concerned when his frequent letters had slowed.

"The very same. You'll have to forgive the vultures; they have a tendency to overstep their bounds. They don't mean anything by it."

The attention is off her now, something that she welcomes as the reporters turn as one towards Damon.

"We all know the story, but let me refresh the memories of those that obviously didn't do their research before coming here today." Damon remarks pointedly, shooting daggers at the errant reporter, who sinks down into his chair slowly.

"There was evidence to suggest that there was nuclear weaponry, technology far beyond our reach during that period of time. The Red Skull was going to fly the plane towards America and release his payload upon every major city on the continent, New York included. Captain America here- we really need to think up a new name for you sweetheart, decided that putting the plane down in the ice was the only viable option to save the lives of millions. You should be _grateful."_

There's a pregnant pause as the occupants of the room glance at each other, whispering behind their hands as they sneak glances at Damon Salvatore.

"And instead you sit here and ask her mundane questions about what her favourite part of the 21st century is? Christ you people have no idea how to do your jobs."

Caroline doesn't bother to listen to the response of the journalists, because she's taken advantage of the momentary distraction to slip quietly out the side door and into the marbled foyer of the building beyond.

She figures she'll have at least a five minute head start before anyone realises that she's missing, especially if Damon Salvatore had anything to do with it. Her handler will probably have a mini heart attack once they find out she's gone missing, but they'll just have to deal with it.

Caroline sucks in the cold air of New York City before she begins to run.

She's just not quite sure what she's running from.

* * *

 **New York City, September 1939**

 _Winter is starting to give way to spring when she meets Niklaus Mikaelson for the first time. He and his family had moved into her neighbourhood after emigrating from Britain the previous year, and his German sounding name had not done him any favours with the boys in the neighbourhood._

 _Europe was at war, and she wasn't stupid enough to think that America wouldn't get involved eventually. The entire country was teetering on the edge of a knife, just waiting for something to happen._

 _Although he was not an only child, Niklaus especially made no effort to make friends at the school that they all attended, preferring to steer well clear of everyone until the final bell rang and they were released._

 _It was difficult for her, seeing the fresh set of bruises that bloomed on his jaw line or under his eye. Despite his obvious discomfort with the continued beatings he was no doubt experiencing, he never made any move to fight back or dob in anyone._

 _She's not sure why. He's tall and broad shouldered, and even her sixteen year old self can recognise that even at two years her senior he's very handsome. He's strong enough to fight back against all of them, could cause some serious damage if he tried._

 _One day when she's walking home, he comes stumbling out of an alleyway, hand pressed against his side, blood pouring from a cut over his eyebrow. He almost barrels into her, and she has to side step him quickly to avoid being bowled over. A quick glance down the dim alleyway shows three boys laughing at his retreating form, one cupping his hands around his mouth to yell the insult at him._

" _Dirty Kraut! Go back to where you came from!"_

 _Niklaus either doesn't hear or doesn't care, spitting blood out onto the road before sucking air into his lungs. She hovers, unsure if she should pretend like nothing has happened and continue on as normal, or if she should remain and offer him her assistance. She's never really had the chance to interact with him one on one before._

" _If you're just going to stand there, you may as well give me a hand." He interrupts her train of thought, clipped tone betraying just the slightest hint of a German accent._

 _She hesitates, because her dad works with the government, and he's always told her about the danger of befriending Germans. You never knew when they might turn around and stab you in the back. Or so he said._

 _Her need to do something wins out over the lessons so carefully taught by her parents and she hurries forward, gripping his elbow and guiding him to sit on the sidewalk._

" _Are you alright?" She asks, hands hovering uncertainly as she stands helplessly beside him._

 _The three boys have made themselves scarce, and she can hear their laughter echoing down the street._

" _What do you think?" Niklaus replies a little sardonically as he lifts his shirt to inspect the damage to his side. She can already see a purpled bruise blooming across his skin, and winces on behalf of him._

 _She watches him wipe his hand across the back of his mouth, blood welling from a cut in his lip._

" _I'm sorry." She apologises, even if she's not quite sure for what._

" _You didn't put you boot into my ribs or punch me in the face. Nothing to apologise for."_

" _I should've done something." Caroline remarks, sinking down onto the kerb beside him and hugging her knees. "Why don't you ever fight back?"_

 _She watches him rummage around for a Kleenex tissue, before he presses it to the cut on his brow._

" _I would rather it be me than Kol or Rebekah. You Americans are not very nice to Europeans." He comments mildly, glancing around at the still bustling street._

 _She immediately feels embarrassed, wiping her hands on her skirt as she meets his eyes briefly. There's a smile tugging at the corner of his lips that lets her know there's no hard feelings despite everything, and it's that alone that has her giving him her own, relieved smile._

 _Come to think of it, this is the longest that she's ever seen him talk or interact with anyone. She's not sure if she should be flattered or not._

" _Is your family German?" She blurts out before she can stop and think about it. He shoots her an annoyed look, like she's just wasting his time, and immediately regrets it._

" _My parents are German. I was born and raised in Britain before coming to America. But apparently that doesn't matter to people around here." He spits out more blood, tongue probing at the cut on his lip._

" _Do you think there'll be war?" She asks nervously, trying her best to change the subject. It's the hot topic at the moment, discussed in streets and dance halls and in the classroom at school._

 _Her parents are old enough to remember the horrors of the First World War, and it's something that's not discussed in their household._

" _There's already a war." Niklaus replies with an amused smile and she refrains from scowling at him._

" _I meant, do you think we'll be asked to fight in it?"_

 _Niklaus doesn't bother to correct her, to inform her that there's no way that she'll ever be allowed to Europe to fight. Instead he stares thoughtfully out onto the street, fingers lacing together in front of him._

" _I think this country will do its duty, as it always has."_

 _It's a cryptic answer, and one that she's not satisfied with, but before she has a chance to reproach him a familiar car is pulling to a halt in front of her. She suppresses a groan as her father peers out at her in annoyance, eyes sweeping over Niklaus dismissively._

" _Get in the car Caroline." Her father motions impatiently. She hesitates, rising up on her toes for a moment before she turns back to Niklaus._

" _Maybe next time try and get a punch or two in. And feel free to talk to me at school you know. People think you're a bit weird Niklaus."_

" _Caroline." Her father repeats insistently as Niklaus raises an eyebrow canting his head to the side in acknowledgement of her words._

" _I'm coming, God." She huffs as she wrenches open the car door, throwing her satchel into the back seat._

" _Caroline?" His voice echoes from behind her as she turns to face him. He's up on his feet now, and absolutely towers above her._

 _She juts her chin out defiantly, one hand on her hip as she waits for him to say whatever he's going to say._

 _Niklaus smiles and it's bloody._

" _Call me Klaus."_

* * *

They always get it wrong; the dozens of historians that choose to tell her story. Even today in the 21st century, alive when she shouldn't she hasn't bothered to correct them. The truth is far too personal, far too painful for her to share with the rest of the world. She's already been forced to share enough, some of it happening while she was under the ice.

Letters, published for everyone to see. Letters that she'd never intended to see the light of day. The letters that betrayed the depth of her feelings for Niklaus Mikaelson before and during the war, before they were reunited ever so briefly.

It's odd, that even now so far in the future, people still can't seem to let go of the past. Not that she's a shining paragon when it comes to that particular stubborn trait. She's trying as hard as she can to hold onto her past, because she's not sure if she's ready to live in the future alone.

They like to say that her story begins when she became Captain America. But that wasn't the truth.

Her story began on a warm spring day in 1939. It began with a nation on the very brink of war, a boy with spun golden hair and a noble streak a mile wide, and blood.

There was always blood.

* * *

 **AN:**

 **Yooo so this is the long awaited Marvel AU that I've been banging on now for about a month. This story will be angsty and full of flashbacks. Basically this is Caroline as Captain America and Klaus as the Winter Soldier, which is pretty much the perfect recipe for angst. Sorry Ravyn!**

 **This chapter featured a bonus Damon Salvatore who is basically Iron Man in this universe. There will be appearances from other characters that we know and love.**

 **So I'll be simultaneously telling Klaus and Caroline's story in flashbacks as well as in the present day as Caroline struggles to find her place in the world.**

 **I'm feeling really good about this one, and of course hope that you guys all enjoy this!**

 **Shout out to Sophie, Angie, Dhara, Ravyn, and Laine who were super excited about this idea when I put forward a semi formed plot to them. Also Sophie, did you spot the Kleenex reference?**

 **As a bit of trivia, each chapter I'll also include my google searches for various random things.**

 **This chapter:**

 **Events of WWII**

 **History of handkerchiefs (Yes I'm being serious)**

 **Cars during WWII**

 **Insults directed at Germans in 1940's America (absolutely no offence meant to those from Germany reading this fic, this was for authenticity's sake).**

 **See you on the other side, and don't forget to review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't own The Vampire Diaries or its characters. If I did, The Originals would never have happened, Kol would be alive and happily causing mayhem somewhere, and Klaus and Caroline would be travelling the world and sexing it up.**

 **Don't own the characters of the MCU, although Steve and Bucky are a constant source of distress.**

* * *

 **New York City, 2015.**

Caroline has already been standing on the busy sidewalk staring up at Salvatore Industries for far too long. The building in front of her is intimidating, immense in its stature and a symbol of the power that Damon Salvatore, and Salvatore Industries now has in this city.

She's already starting to get a few curious stares, even dressed down in her jeans and a light sweater. It's strange, to imagine that her face is still so recognisable. Of course, she's been told that her re-emergence from the ice was one of the most significant, if not _the_ most significant things to occur this decade. Which is a big deal considering the amount of things that have apparently already happened this decade.

"Ms Forbes?" A voice calls to her left, and she turns at once to source the owner, caught slightly off guard.

The man is as tall as her, bronze hair and light green eyes. He has a friendly smile, but that doesn't mean much in this century, or so she's been told. People have become far better at masking their emotions, and she's hard pressed to keep up at times.

Nik always used to say that he could read her like an open book, so fond she was of wearing her heart on her sleeve for the world to see.

"Yes?" Caroline responds, raising a single eyebrow at this man.

"Stefan Salvatore." He offers in reply, snapping his heels together and saluting her. It's an odd gesture considering they're in public, but one that's oddly reassuring. "My brother couldn't help but notice you standing on the sidewalk, and was wondering if you were planning on coming inside anytime soon?"

Caroline blushes, well and truly caught out.

"I wasn't sure if this was the right building." She replies lamely as Stefan gives her a _look._ He however, refrains from replying, instead waves her towards the entrance of the building, falling into step beside her.

"I wasn't aware that Damon Salvatore had a younger brother." Caroline mentions after a pause, giving Stefan a grateful smile as he holds open the glass door for her.

It's a small gesture, but it's enough to tell her that chivalry isn't quite dead yet in this century.

She's rewarded with the sound of Stefan's chuckle as they cross the lobby.

"I'm more than happy to let Damon have the spotlight to himself, believe me. But yes, I'm Damon's brother, and the heir to Salvatore Industries should anything ever happen to him."

Stefan pauses in front of a bank of elevators, jabbing his finger against the call button repeatedly as he taps his foot against the marbled floor. She looks around at the glass and steel lobby with awe, the building unlike anything she'd ever seen in this century or the previous one.

The elevator unsettles her. They'd had one in the apartment that her and her parents had lived in, but it was slow and manually operated, and she'd much preferred to take the stairs.

Caroline is stepping out into the penthouse of the building far too soon for her liking, and Damon Salvatore turns away from the bank of windows, drink in hand and a smile on his face.

"Caroline Forbes, so lovely to see you again. You'll have to forgive me for crashing your press conference, although if the look on your face was anything to go by it seemed like it was the worst form of torture for you."

"Damon." Stefan scolds, striding further into the room. "Play nice please."

Damon places a hand over his chest, clearly wounded by his little brother's request.

"I'm insulted that you'd even think I'd do anything but play nice Stef. What can I do for you Cap? Can I offer you a drink in the meantime? I've got a Russian Vodka that might even be enough to get you drunk."

Caroline frowns at the man before her, slightly unnerved that he knows such a little known fact about her.

"How did you know I can't get drunk?" She asks warily as Damon glances in her direction.

"I read my mother's file on you. It's not public knowledge, so don't worry. I'll keep it need to know, but god that must be depressing for you. Drink?" Damon holds the glass aloft like a trophy, and she shakes her head minutely as she sinks down onto one of the leather couches.

Stefan and Damon exchange a look as they both turn as one to stare at her.

Caroline takes a deep breath.

"I want to find out what happened to my parents." She finally manages to say as Damon glances at her in surprise.

"That's what the internet is for Cap." He begins, realisation dawning as he takes in the confused expression on her face. "Good god they haven't told you about Google yet." He adds in horror, referring to her S.H.I.E.L.D handlers who keep an eye on her every now and then.

Even Stefan looks distressed by this and it's enough to have her looking confusedly from one brother to the other.

"What is Google? Like some sort of disease or something?" Caroline directs this towards Damon, who looks at her askance.

"Google is life Cap." Damon replies faintly. "But sure, I can help you find out what happened to your parents."

"I just want to know where they're buried. I'm not under any illusions that they're still alive." Caroline remarks with a bitter smile as Stefan offers a sympathetic glance.

She takes a deep breath before making her next request.

"I want to know where Nik is buried as well."

Damon says nothing to this request simply slides a slim black device out of his pocket and brings it up to his ear. She frowns at him in confusion as Stefan nudges her, his look conveying that he'll explain as much as he can later.

"Yeah Elena? I need some information form the world wide web." Damon begins with a cheeky smile. He pauses, looking slightly mollified at whatever this 'Elena's' response had been. "No actually I can't right now. Look can you please just get this information for me? I need to know the location of three gravestones."

Another pause and she stands, moving over to the glass windows offering a breathtaking view of New York City. Not much of the skyline is familiar to her, but she cam see the Empire State Building and she has a clear view all the way to the Brooklyn Bridge.

"All three of them are here in the city? Fantastic, thanks sweetheart. Yeah I love you too. Okay bye."

Damon scribbles something down on a piece of paper and hands it to Stefan, the two brothers exchanging another look.

"Why don't you accompany the Captain on this little expedition Stef?" Damon requests as she turns from the bank of windows.

"If it's all the same, I'd rather go alone." Caroline replies, holding her hand out for the piece of paper. Stefan relinquishes it somewhat reluctantly to her as she glances down at the unrecognisable address.

Damon jumps on her unease immediately.

"You'll be eaten alive out there Forbes. Do you even know where that address is going to take you? Look at least take Stef, he's served as well so you have something in common at least. And while you're at it Stef, try and fill her in on what happened in the world after 1945."

* * *

Officially, Niklaus Mikaelson was buried on the 25th July, 1943. Full military honours with a 21 gun salute. And God he would have hated it.

Unofficially, they never did find his body. A part of her hopes that he found his peace, sleeping beneath the snow in that desolate mountain range.

The grave marker is simple, a white cross and a _Sgt. N. Mikaelson_ scrawled across it. It joins the hundreds of others that march across the lawn in neat rows, stretching as far as her eye can see.

It sort of hits her then, the complete and utter devastation that was the Second World War, the generation of men that it stole away quietly in the night and in the Cold, robbing countless families of husbands and fathers and sons and lovers.

It's impossible to pinpoint the desolation and loneliness that she feels, ripped out of one decade and dropped into another, hopelessly out of her depth.

She has no parents, no lover, and has no idea where to even begin tracking down what might have happened to Bonnie Bennett. And she is far too proud to ask Stefan Salvatore for help, doesn't want to see the pity in those green eyes, the placating gestures and the kind smiles.

She's sick of hearing them whisper behind their hands, wondering what to possibly do with her. She's not stupid; she knows that she's a liability. The only thing that's probably stopping S.H.I.E.L.D from making her disappear is the whole national icon thing and the fact that she's a historian's version of a wet dream.

So for now, S.H.I.E.L.D are happy to put her up in an apartment in Brooklyn and organise the 70 or so years of back pay she's owed. She could take off and ride off into the sunset, but she has nowhere to go and no one to go to.

She swipes at her eyes angrily, trying to keep the tears at bay as she kneels at the graveside of the man who she was supposed to build a life with, wishing more than anything that she was sleeping beneath the ground, even if it wasn't with him.

And impossibly, the world spins on.

* * *

 _ **New York City, April 1940.**_

" _Are you sure this is a good idea?" Nik asks a little uncertainly as she waves him through the door of her apartment building._

 _With his hand me down shirt and a ratty pair of pants he sticks out like a sore thumb in the otherwise neat and tidy lobby. They're already attracting more than a few stares from some of her well heeled neighbours._

" _It's fine. My dad's on some business trip and mom could be anywhere at this point in time."_

 _Rather than leading him towards the elevator she heads for the stairwell, Nik tucking his cap under his arm and making some attempt to smooth down his unruly hair. He'd been working at the docks ever since he left school in December, trying to bring in more money for his already large family._

 _He had started speaking to her though, since that day on the street. They made an odd sort of match, he the English-German (now American), and she, the daughter of an intelligence officer and a proudly patriotic mother and father. Sometimes Bonnie Bennett, her neighbour joined them. Other times she fell in with the rest of the Mikaelson siblings still in school; Rebekah and Kol being her age._

 _But it worked somehow. For all of the airs that he liked to put on Nik was wickedly intelligent, and creative to boot. He was quite the artist, favouring paper and pencil over anything else (possibly because it was the only thing he could afford)._

 _Nik looks impressed and out of his depth when she shows him into the apartment, all gleaming wooden floors and modern bench tops. The floor to ceiling windows offer the best view over the New York skyline, natural light streaming into the space._

 _Caroline can see his eyes rove about the space, a frown tugging at his brow. And a part of her just knows that he's probably wondering why three people need this much space, and that it could be put to far better use really._

 _The sound of voices has her grabbing Nik by the arm and hauling him around the corner, pressing herself up against the wall as footsteps pass just where they'd been previously standing._

" _I appreciate you coming Lyanna. I'm sorry to push you on the super soldier program; the government is getting a little restless at how quickly Hitler is expanding across Europe."_

 _Nik frowns at her, cocking his head to the side curiously. They were so not supposed to hear this, whatever her father was talking about with Lyanna Stark._

" _Of course, I completely understand. I am as anxious as you are to see the program come to fruition. You do understand however, the struggle we face with finding someone who is worthy of the serum." Lyanna's voice is faint, as the footsteps stop._

" _I don't see the issue. Just find someone strong and in good health. The serum should take care of the rest, shouldn't it?" Her father replies, a sharp edge biting into his tone._

" _It is more than just finding someone strong and in good health." Lyanna points out mockingly. "We do not know the effect the serum will have on the mind. It would be of no benefit to us if we cannot control the subject. I need more time to perfect this."_

" _Hitler isn't going to give us more time. The President is giving us a little under a year to produce some measurable results or the program will be shut down. Ideally this is something I'd like to prevent before thousands more give their lives to this war."_

 _Another pause as she and Nik stare at each other wide eyed._

" _You think there will be war?" Lyanna asks resignedly._

" _There's already a war. But yes. The President realises full well that eventually we'll be dragged into this mess and we'll have to sort it out just as he did last time. He wouldn't be pouring so much money into this project if he thought otherwise."_

 _Caroline shivers, wrapping her arms around her middle, amazed at just how casually her father was discussing this, like it wasn't even a blip on his radar. Like a potential World War is just another day at the office._

" _Come on then. I'll walk you down. I have to duck out for a meeting anyway." Her father adds, the twisting of the doorknob echoing loudly in the house._

 _She doesn't move until the door has slammed shut behind them, stepping away from the wall and into the lounge area._

 _Nik is still frowning, like he's turning the conversation over in his mind like a puzzle piece._

" _What do you suppose that was all about?" He asks curiously, sinking down gingerly onto one of the many chairs scattered around the space._

" _Whatever it was sounded serious. Hitler and war and super soldiers? It sounds like something out of a sci fi movie." She remarks with a quick smile for the boy in front of her._

 _His skin is tanned from hours spent in the sun and he's got dirt all over his face and arms but he is still unmistakeably Nik. He gives her a weary smile in return, and she pretends that her stomach doesn't flip flop over it._

" _Was that Lyanna Stark?" Nik asks in awe as she nods once in confirmation._

 _Lyanna Stark was sort of legendary in New York City. She'd been the only heir to her parent's fortune, both of them dying when she was just 17 years of age. She'd turned their modest sum into a veritable empire, and had pioneered new forms of technology that were set to shape the decade and the years beyond._

 _People tended to view her as eccentric, maybe even a little bit crazy, but Caroline knew otherwise. Lyanna was brilliant and no one could ever convince her otherwise._

 _Nik wrings his cap between his hands ever so briefly before looking around the lounge space once more._

" _Do you have anything to eat?"_

* * *

 **AN: Boom, Chapter 2. I know it's been awhile kids; I've just been focusing on real life for a little bit. But I'm still here doing my thing, albeit in the background.**

 **I sort of lost my inspiration when it came to Growing Strong a little bit, but I think I'm back on track with that one as well, so cheers all round.**

 **Sorry for the overload of angst… it's going to get worse before it gets better!**

 **Thanks to all who have reviewed so far! I know Marvel isn't everyone's cup of tea but I really like where this story is headed.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries or it's characters. If I did, The Originals would never have happened, Kol would be alive and happily causing mayhem somewhere, and Klaus and Caroline would be travelling the world and sexing it up.**

* * *

 **Washington D.C, 2017**

Life in the 21st century wasn't as horrible as she thought it was going to be. It took multiple trips to a S.H.I.E.L.D shrink before she began to pull herself out of the deep pit of despair that she'd found herself in.

It was with an almost military like precision that she began to compartmentalise, recognising that all of her friends and family were possibly dead, the love of her life right alongside of them, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it, apart from living her own life to the best of her ability until her body gave up on her or she was killed, whatever came first.

From there, it was the recognition that came along with having to rebuild her life piece by piece.

The first thing she did was move out of Manhattan. Although she was doing better than she thought possible, the memories of the city were still painful, even if the skyline had changed beyond all recognition. She knew that Damon Salvatore was disappointed about not having another super powered person around, but he would get over it soon enough she was sure.

The ghosts of her past still haunted New York City, and she was smart enough to realise that there were some battles that weren't worth fighting when it came down to it.

She started working for S.H.I.E.L.D.

They were small missions at first, and she felt useful doing something with her speed and strength. As she very quickly discovered after shortly emerging from the ice, her abilities were the sort of thing that didn't fade away with the passing of the decades. It was like riding a bike- unsteady at first but once you built up the momentum you were practically unstoppable.

And so it goes.

She found herself making friends. First with Stefan Salvatore, who had a surprising military background of his own, not to mention some lethal looking bonafide wings that allowed him to actually _fly._

It was moments like this where she had to pinch herself to check if this was actually her reality.

They'd been made by his brother, he'd told her gleefully when he'd unveiled them on one of their first missions together. Although Salvatore Industries had originally been in the business of manufacturing weapons before Damon had been kidnapped in the Middle East, Damon had turned his attention, and talents to more than just the Iron Man suits upon his return.

As a result, he soon became the recipient of a number of military contracts, this time of the technological kind rather than the destructive kind.

Katerina Petrova was another oddity. Having been raised and trained in Russia, she knew very little about the individual that the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D called The Black Widow, and Katerina herself wasn't particularly forthcoming about her past.

But she'd been a great help in assisting with her acclimation into this century, and for that she was forever grateful to the slightly terrifying spy.

She found out what happened to the rest of her friends who she grew up with under the shadow of WWII. Bonnie Bennett, a friend from school, had gone on to have her own family, her descendants settling in a small town called Mystic Falls, in Virginia.

She hadn't made the trek to the town, not wanting to bother Bonnie's grandchildren over old ghosts and ancient history. The memory of her friend was enough, for now.

Her dad had survived WWII, and had gone on to continue contracting for US intelligence. He had lived a long and fulfilling life albeit stricken with grief at her own apparent death, and had himself passed away in the Autumn of 2001, just after two planes had flown into the Twin Towers, changing the course of history forever.

Her mother had outlived her father by a year, finally succumbing to Alzheimer's disease not long after her 95th birthday. She was glad, that they both got to live beyond the War, the thing that had ruled all of their lives back when she was young.

Of course, as tends to be the norm when things in her life are going well, exactly one month later the rug gets ripped out of her feet, her world turns upside down, and everything goes to hell in a hand basket.

Because S.H.I.E.L.D, the organisation that she'd put all of her hopes and her faith into, was revealed to be HYDRA.

* * *

"So let me get this straight. S.H.I.E.L.D is actually Hydra, the head of S.H.I.E.L.D Alaric Saltzman is dead, and Washington has officially lost it's shit. Have I forgotten anything?" Stefan Salvatore asks from the driver's seat of the SUV.

"You forgot the legendary Russian assassin currently terrorising the citizenry down at the freeway." Katerina Petrova replies dryly, checking the charges of the Widow's Bites on each of her wrists.

Caroline glances at the other girl incredulously, because if there was a prime candidate for legendary Russian assassin it was Katerina Petrova.

There had been whispers of torture and brainwashing, but she'd never been bold enough to ask Katerina, and Katerina had never volunteered the information to her.

As if noting her gaze, Katerina tips her head sideways to look at her, booted foot prodding into the back of their hostage, Jonathon Gilbert's seat. The man had been revealed to be working for Hydra, and they were in the process of taking him to a safe house for questioning.

"Alright girl out of time?"

Caroline rolls her eyes.

"I'm fine, thanks for asking-" Her words are cut off when Stefan swears loudly and slams on the brakes, a person having landed quite heavily on the hood of the SUV.

"Fuck!" Katerina yells as the windscreen shatters beneath the force of the strangers fist, and then there's a yell as Jonathon Gilbert is dragged through the windscreen and bodily thrown into the path of an oncoming truck.

"Keep driving!" She yells at Stefan, knowing that there's nothing that they can do for Jonathon Gilbert, knows that the other man is dead in all the ways that count in this century.

"I can't, my steering wheel is gone!" Stefan yells back, hands fluttering over the dash as their car careens out of control and slides into the nearest concrete embankment with a resounding crunch.

The next moment the figure is gone, other cars swerving around them, screeching to a halt as the crunching of metal against metal heralds an accident.

"Katerina pulls out a gun, unbuckling her seatbelt through gritted teeth. She's bleeding, superficial wounds from the glass marring the skin of her face and neck.

She clocks her own injuries, possibly a few bruised ribs, a cut to her forehead, a sprained wrist.

"Get to cover!" Katherina yells as bullets lodge themselves into the side of the car, mercifully stopped by the thick metal that S.H.I.E.L.D chooses to encase their vehicles in. It adds an extra layer of protection that otherwise wouldn't be afforded in normal, civilian cars. "Let me deal with him."

"Kat don't!" She yells after the other girl as Katerina swings herself out of the vehicle, ducking and rolling as she pursues the man all clad in black. Sunlight glints off something metal, and it's with a shiver that he realises that it's his arm. His arm is metal.

"You heard the lady, time to go!" Stefan yells over the sounds of gunshots and screaming and absolute chaos.

She grabs her shield, cursing the fact that she's completely unprotected in her jeans and boots and leather jacket. She did not anticipate having to fight for her life today, let alone flee from HYDRA, an organisation that she thought had been vanquished at the end of WWII.

She and Stefan hit the ground running, avoiding the spray of bullets thundering towards them, burying themselves into asphalt.

She leaps over the side of the concourse, the drop of ten or so feet would be enough to break the ankles of any normal human and quite a few soldiers. One of the advantages of the super soldier serum that they'd accidentally injected her with during WWII wasn't only just the accelerated healing, but the super strength and agility as well.

And somehow, she'd become the symbol of an entire nation during a time where women weren't valued by society. She'd fought the Red Skull, saved the world, and then had fallen asleep for almost 70 years. She'd woken up in a completely different world, her parents and friends and her lover, Niklaus Mikaelson all dead.

Witnessing Nik's death on that icy mountain in Austria had been horrible enough, knowing that even she couldn't do anything to save him as he fell into that ravine, knowing in her heart of hearts that he was dead. But somehow, waking up in a world that her parents were no longer a part of somehow seemed to hurt just as much.

she waves Stefan onwards, and he nods at her, knowing that this is a fight that he has no part in, can't possibly keep up with. He'd seen tours in Iraq and Afghanistan, but even this was out of his depth, way out of his league. Enhanced beings, as they'd started labelling them, were rare enough on this planet.

She herself was one, Thor was another. She'd met the Norse God only once, and had heard plenty of tales about him in the meantime to know that wherever he came from, his powers were legitimate. Were real.

As foolhardy as Stefan could be sometimes, he also had a very excellent sense of self preservation, so she's thankful when she sees him running with long strides towards the nearest building, finding cover just around the corner, weapon holstered at his hip in the hopes that he can still provide her with back up.

The sound of boots hitting the ground behind her has her turning, and soon she is engaged by the stranger. She spares a thought for Katerina, hoping that the other woman was okay before she's raising her shield up to protect her centre mass.

As awful as it sounds, she doesn't have time to worry about Katerina now. She'll find out later where she is, but for now, this fight is for her very life.

It's hard to judge the man's weaknesses when they trade punches and kicks so rapidly, neither of them holding back.

He seems to list slightly to the left, no doubt weighed down by his left arm, but that still doesn't affect his fighting style in the least.

He's wearing a mask that covers his nose, eyes, and mouth, and he wears his sandy blonde hair at shoulder length.

He fights with a frightening efficiency, and she has to duck to the side when he pulls out a knife, thrusting forward with his metal arm to bury it into the soft metal of the car she'd been pushed up against.

She digs her knee into the man's stomach and uses her shield to push back against him, fist flying up to jab at the exposed skin of his throat. The man grabs it and squeezes, and she bites out a groan as she drives the edge of her shield into his hip, anything to stop him from snapping every single bone in her hand.

Her other hand is released, and she takes advantage of the momentary respite to reach out and rip the mask from his face.

And somehow the world stops turning. Because it couldn't be. It simply wasn't possible. And yet, the hair, and the eyes, and the lips and the scar above his eyebrow, it was Nik. Her Nik, the love of her life.

"Nik." She gasps out as she catches her breath, still reeling at the idea that he's here, he's alive, he's okay.

And she wonders just on Earth how this is possible, knowing that it _couldn't be._

The man, Nik stops and cocks his head at her in an eerily reminiscent mannerism that seemed to echo across time.

"Who the hell is Nik?"

It was how Stefan found her a few minutes later, frozen to the spot, the man wearing Nik's face having vanished into the smoke and chaos that was now the scene of an accident.

The police had already arrived for clean up, and she knew that she was drawing a whole lot of unwarranted attention to herself, the Shield she carries unmistakably painting her as Captain America.

"Caroline, we've gotta go." Stefan pleads with her, grabbing her by the arm and giving it a gentle tug.

She turns to him, eyes wide, face pale, two high spots of colour on his cheek.

Stefan stops, a look of concern on his face as he grips her gently on the shoulders.

"What is it? You look like you've seen a ghost." Stefan sweeps her hair out of her face, gaze sweeping over her in concern.

She swallows audibly, eyes sweeping over the carnage surrounding them.

"I think I have."

* * *

 **New York City, 1942**

She's tapping her foot impatiently against the wooden floor, the jazzy tune doing nothing to improve her mood, despite the fact that she's managed to score herself a new dress for this dance.

Young couples twirl in front of her, dancing with a strange precision to the music, the flag of the United States hanging from the roof above them.

"What's got you in such a mood?" April Young asks playfully, lips painted a burgundy red that looks wonderful against her skin.

"Nothing." She replies shortly, snapping her compact closed, wondering where the hell he was.

She'd been going steady with Klaus for almost two years now, much to the horror of her parents, who denied to their neighbours that they had anything to do with this particular pairing.

It had been Klaus' noble streak that had drawn her in, but she soon discovered that he had many other qualities that she found attractive, not to mention that he was rather easy on the eyes.

Finishing up at school hadn't been easy, and she'd been accused of being a German sympathiser, what with Klaus' parents coming from Germany. But she'd managed to finish up despite all the scrutiny, taking up an internship with her father in his lab as she looked around for steady work.

The heavy doors to the hall creak open, and almost immediately her eyes are drawn to the striking figure that is her boyfriend.

And then in the next few split seconds, her heart drops when she sees that he's in uniform.

He didn't…

She stands frozen to the spot as Klaus moves towards her, the crowd of dancers parting before them with an effortless sway and spin, never breaking their steps to the rhythm of the music.

April melts from her side as Klaus stops before her, a hesitant look on his face as he reaches for her hand, bringing it to his lips.

"Hello sweetheart."

She slaps him before she can think twice about it, red imprint already blooming on her cheek as he stares at her in stunned surprise.

The crack of her palm against his cheek has drawn the attention of a few of the people closest to them, and she draws herself up to her full height before shooting them a withering glare.

"Caroline." Klaus steps forward, hand reaching out for her as she spins on her heel, storming towards the front entrance of the hall, pushing against heavy wood as she bursts out into the cool evening air.

"Caroline!" Klaus yells, footsteps clattering against the steps as he pursues her, stopping her with a hand on her arm, catching her palm as she moves to strike him a second time, tears gathering in her eyes as he pulls her towards him, into the warm circle of his arms.

"Tell me you didn't enlist." She murmurs into the fabric of his khaki jacket, belted at the waist, outlining his broad figure. "Tell me you didn't sign up for war."

"I did." Klaus confirms quietly, chin resting on top of her head as they sway back and forth in the street. "I'm sorry."

She pushes on his chest, taking a step back as she swipes at her eyes with a shaky laugh.

"No you're not." She tells him shortly. "Noble fool."

She presses her lips to his, face held between her hands with an urgency that surprises even her. Klaus catches her around the waist, melding her body to his as he deepens their embrace, hand stroking the side of her neck gently.

"Come home with me." He murmurs in her ear, breath hot against the side of her neck.

They hadn't gone all the way yet, although she'd certainly thought about it more than a few times. She knew that if she did, it would be something that she would have to keep to herself, that she could never tell another soul. Not even her friends.

If her parents ever found out she'd be shipped off to her overly religious aunt in the deep south, and her life would practically be over.

"Klaus, you know that we can't…" She trails off as he nips at her earlobe gently, other hand slipping gently through her carefully curled hair.

"Please." He remarks quietly. "I ship out next week."

She presses her fingertips into his chest, leaning back to look him in the eyes.

"I'm going to pretend that you just didn't try and manipulate me into sleeping with you by telling me your shipping date, hoping that I'd fall into your arms like some floozy." She murmurs at him in a furious tone.

Klaus looks apologetic, kissing her knuckles with a smile.

"Love, I'm sorry, that wasn't my intention. You know that." He presses, and she lets her head rest against his chest with a sigh.

Because he was right of course. In their somewhat brief courtship, Klaus had never pressured her into anything, had never manipulated her to get something that he wanted.

It was rather refreshing actually, to be going steady with somebody who was the epitome of a gentleman, despite his upbringing in the poorer part of the city.

"Yes." She breathes into the space between them, watching as his face changes, a surprised expression creeping across his features. "But because I love you."

So she lets him take her to the cramped apartment that he'd managed to rent with what little money he had working down at the shipyard.

She lets him undress her, stands, shivering slightly as he worships her with his lips and his hands in a way that is uniquely his.

She lets him bear her backwards onto the single mattress, lets herself get lost in the circle of his arms.

And in the after, in the silence, she lets herself press a gentle kiss to the flushed skin of his chest, all the while pretending that her heart isn't breaking into two.

* * *

 **AN: The awkward moment when you realise that it's been two years since you've updated a fic. Woops!**

 **I debated discontinuing this one for a pretty long time and just merging what I'd already written into my drabble collection, but I fell too much in love with this concept. This will probably just be a short fic, similar to the length of Growing Strong, my Game of Thrones AU.**

 **You might need to re read this one haha, it's been awhile! See you on the other side and don't forget to review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Vampire Diaries or it's characters. If I did, The Originals would never have happened, Kol would be alive and happily causing mayhem somewhere, and Klaus and Caroline would be travelling the world and sexing it up.**

* * *

 _ **Somewhere in America, 2017**_

Katerina finds her before she has a chance to ask the question, a heavy looking file held in her hand, bursting with papers.

She knows what it contains, even as Katherine places it on the table, sliding it across to her.

"This is everything that was on record about the Winter Soldier. Mission reports, phone taps and conversations, correspondence between Hydra leaders. It's… It's not exactly pleasant." Katerina finishes softly, levering herself down to a seat on the other side of the table.

The hotel room they've camped out in, paid for by cash is dingy and small and off the beaten track. With the revelation that Hydra had been growing inside of S.H.I.E.L.D since World War II, and the dumping of encrypted files onto the internet, the fractured organisation had gone to ground.

And so had they. Given the carnage and chaos that had reigned supreme in Washington over the past few days, they weren't exactly popular with the government right now, Katerina forced to testify in front of an inquiry before they'd hit the road and hadn't looked back.

Alaric had revealed himself shortly after, appearing only long enough to tell them just how he had faked his death, why it was imperative that he remained dead to all but a select few.

She and Stefan had hit the road and kept driving, Katerina separating from them after a day on some sort of mysterious mission.

As it turns out, the mission was strictly intelligence gathering.

She leans forward, elbows to knees as she lets out a long sigh. She hadn't slept since Washington, constantly looking over her shoulder for Hydra and anyone else trying to come after them.

Hers is a bone deep exhaustion, exacerbated by the slow healing of the wounds that she'd sustained in Washington.

Honestly, Hydra's big reveal was a tough pill to swallow. She'd dedicated her life to eradicating the organisation during WWII, base by base, leader by leader. She thought that her ultimate sacrifice, putting a plane full of weaponry down in the ice, laying down her own life, would have been enough.

But it hadn't been enough, and that was what almost killed her all over again. Not even the realisation that Nik was alive softened the blow, instead metaphorically reopened old wounds and scars and memories that she'd tried to shut out for so long now.

Because even though Nik was alive, he wasn't himself. Probably never would be himself ever again.

A part of her believed that perhaps he would be better off dead. Could she do the job?

"Caroline?" Katerina prompts gently, hand reaching over the table to comfort her.

"Sorry." She apologises immediately, manners instinctually kicking in before she can think twice about it- a byproduct of her days growing up in wartime America.

"You don't need to apologise." Katerina says gently. "It's okay if you don't want to find out what's in that file."

"No." Her voice is sharp, and one hand finally, finally comes to rest on the file. "I owe it to him, to see what he went through. What it was like for him while I was… while I was asleep."

She blinks tears out of her eyes, furious at herself for showing weakness in front of Katerina. The other woman had been unflappable over the past few days, nothing seeming to phase her, always knowing what to do at the right place in the right moment.

She had been a pillar of strength in a chaotic period of time and caroline was grateful that the assassin cum spy had allowed her to lean on that strength.

"Caroline." Katerina begins softly, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand gently. "Sometimes it's okay to not be okay. Do you understand me?"

She breaks down at the words, the weight of history crashing over her all at once, the last few months of _hurt,_ the past few hours of trauma that she'd had to experience. All because whatever happened in WWII hadn't been enough.

 _She_ hadn't been enough.

Shoulders heaving with each gasping sob that she lets out, she covers her mouth with her hand, body trembling as she tries to hold it together, tries to hold herself together.

Katerina reaches out and rests a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Let it all out Caroline. We'll still be here later to put you back together."

So she does.

* * *

It's hours later when she finally finishes reading the file, eyes rubbed raw by exhaustion and her fragile emotions. Stefan and Katerina had both chosen to sleep, Katerina on the bed, Stefan propped up against the wall sleeping the sleep of snipers everywhere.

She saw herself in Stefan sometimes, in the things he'd been through, the trauma he'd suffered. And she remembered sleeping like that, decades ago, during a very different war to the one she was currently fighting.

Nik's story, the one contained in the file was one of torment and pain, blood splattered across the pages of history, significant moments that suddenly took on a whole new meaning the more she read through Hydra's reports.

The assassination of JFK in the early sixties. The destabilisation of the Soviet Union in the late 80's and early 90's. Dozens upon dozens of smaller kills, political events that when viewed in isolation didn't seem to have any significance. But once put together...

And he'd been there through all of them. She could glean a few things by reading between the lines. First, that he'd been frozen between missions. Some sort of cryogenics, technology that the American's could only dream of having. It was how he'd retained his age, why he didn't look a day over 25 despite the weight of the decades that he carried in his eyes and the scars he wore on his skin.

Second, they'd somehow wiped his memory between each mission, so that he couldn't retain memories of his previous life or the people that had been in it. It was why he didn't recognise her when they'd fought previously, why he had no recollection of the significance that she'd played in his life.

She's jolted out of her sudden train of thoughts by a soft thump on the roof. If she was a normal person, not trained to analyse every small sound and catalogue it according to it's level of potential harm, she would have written it off.

But she's not normal, and neither is Katerina, who's awake in an instant, no sign that she'd even been in a deep sleep just seconds earlier.

She puts down the file as she stands silently, listening to the footsteps on the roof above their room. Katerina puts a finger to her lips, bending down and shaking Stefan gently awake.

Within seconds Stefan is with them, Katerina bending down to breathe in his ear as he nods once in confirmation that he's understood.

Katerina stalks across the room towards the front door, gun held in hand as she silently twists open the door knob, vanishing into the darkness within seconds.

"Kind of scary how she does that, huh?" Stefan whispers as she shoots him a smile in agreement.

Katerina reappears very quickly, crossing the room, gripping her gently by the arm.

"He's here. Alone. I don't think he wants to hurt you, but take the shield in case."

Stefan, ever the voice of reason, chooses to raise a very valid point.

"Kat, not even a few hours ago he was trying to kill us! Do you think this is a good idea?" Stefan hisses towards her.

Katerina just shrugs.

"He could have killed us all by now if he really wanted to, but he hasn't. He's after something specific. Caroline. He wants to talk to her."

She gets to her feet, shield in hand as she strides across the room. If what Kat said was true, she had to see him, try and make him remember even a sliver of the life that they shared together all those decades ago.

"I'll come with you. Keep watch." Stefan gets to his feet in the next moment, reaching for one of his guns.

Katerina stops him with a gentle hand on her chest.

"Trust me Stef, he wants to talk to Caroline, and Caroline only. She can handle herself."

"It's fine, Stefan." She interjects, steeling herself before twisting the knob of the hotel room. It's almost nothing to vault up onto the balcony railing, pulling herself up onto the roof with one, easy motion.

The advantages of super strength.

There's no one on the roof, but she blinks and suddenly he's there. He's not wearing the mask that he had been wearing when they'd fought on the bridge.

It would have put him at a disadvantage, in the darkness, the parking lot below them lit only by a flickering street light, casting a rather creepy vibe over the whole situation.

He stands tall and strong, metal arm glinting in the moonlight where it's not covered up by his jacket. His hair is stringy and unkempt, and it's strange, seeing it at this length when he always used to keep it cropped so close to his head, or in the regulation buzzcut required by the US military during WWII to prevent lice.

"You came." She begins softly, stepping towards him hesitantly, shield held in front of her. She's very much aware that this could turn into a fist fight at any time, and she doesn't doubt that he's packing some serious fire power should it come to that.

"I fought you on the bridge." His voice is strangely listless, almost robotic, as if he's reciting it from memory. "You called me Nik. I'm not familiar with this name."

She takes another step towards him, the extent of his brainwashing suddenly becoming apparent as her brow furrows into a frown.

"It's _your_ name. The name you were born with."

"You're lying." The Soldier replies evenly. "That's not my name."

"What is your name? The Winter Soldier?" She asks, watches as he flinches. "No. Before you were the Winter Soldier, your name was Niklaus Mikaelson. And you were the love of my life."

The Soldier steps back like he's been slapped, eyes blinking once, twice, as he attempts to comprehend that information.

She doesn't give him time to second guess it.

"We lived in the same neighbourhood, and you were teased mercilessly because of your Germanic sounding surname. We fell in love, despite the disapproval of my family, and I followed you across the Atlantic to fight in the war. We were engaged to be married, we were going to have a life together. You really don't remember any of it?" She asks quietly, heart breaking as he continues to stare at her blankly.

"There was no life before I was the Soldier. They created me." He says dully.

It feels like she's been stabbed, and it's only the force of her willpower that keeps her standing on her own two feet.

"Why are you here?" She spits out, wanting to lash out, wanting to _hurt_ him for hurting her so badly, for taking a piece of her soul without even looking like he cared, or realised that he'd done it.

He blinks at her, perhaps surprised by the sharpness of her tone.

"I don't know." He states honestly, looking surprised at his own admission. "I just knew that I had to talk to you."

She sighs, sliding a hand into the pocket of her jeans, taking out the folded photograph that she carries with her everywhere. It had been in a museum while she was sleeping, and all it took was a politely worded request to the curator via a letter before they were releasing it to her with a hasty apology and a promise to invite her around to view more of her personal belongings, take them back if she so desired.

She presses the photograph into his chest, waits until his hand comes up to grip it gently.

"I want you to have this. It's one of the fondest memories I have of us." Her lips quirk into a smile, casting her mind back to the smoky bar in Paris, where they'd gone on a shared furlough, had a break from the fighting before Paris had fallen.

It had been a perfect weekend, spent in bed, roaming the streets together, dancing in whatever bar happened to be playing music that night. If they'd been married, it would have been the perfect honeymoon.

The photographer had snapped it almost absentmindedly, the two of them dancing together, foreheads pressed against each other, a tender smile on Nik's face as he held her in his arms. They're both dressed in uniform, and although the photo is black and white she can still tell the exact shade of red lipstick she'd been wearing.

The Soldier looks uncertain, but slips the photograph into his pocket. She takes it as a positive sign, and steps back from him.

"You should go. We'll be leaving in the morning, it's not good to stay in one place for long."

The Soldier nods once, backing away from her silently as he melts away into the darkness. She just falls to her knees, hands shaking as she drops her shield.

Katerina finds her like that half an hour later, the other woman's hand closing around her shoulder reassuringly.

"It's a curious concept, love. I don't think it's meant to hurt. But ultimately, it does." Katerina murmurs softly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She just shakes her head.

"No."

* * *

 ** _Breacons Beacons, Wales, 1943_**

 _"Now, are you absolutely sure that you want to be over here? No one would blame you if you wanted to stay home." Lyanna Stark is sitting next to her in the backseat of the jeep, a clipboard held in her hands as she glances over the information before her._

 _"I wouldn't be much of a national hero if I didn't help out the boys in the trenches now, would I?" She replies a little sarcastically with a sigh._

 _The last six months had been an absolute whirlwind. She'd been interning in the science division of the US Army with Lyanna, finally getting to find out what the super solider program that she'd overheard her father and Lyanna discussing was about._

 _As it turns out, the US army had been messing around with some serum. If successful, the serum would enhance the reflexes, strength, and healing time of the worthy recipient. They had tried without fail to create a successful super soldier, without any luck._

 _Three men had died, all of them strong and hearty and hale. Lyanna had gone back to the drawing board, going over the delicate equations and compositions of the serum with a fine tooth comb, the threat of the program being shut down a very real possibility._

 _And then some Nazi nut job had somehow infiltrated their lab, killing three and taking her hostage. Just another day at the office, instead the nut job had also decided to inject her with the serum, some sort of payback to her father._

 _Despite the three days spent in hospital in complete and total agony as the serum had begun to take effect, she hadn't died, like everyone thought she would._

 _The serum had worked. And she had survived._

 _There had been a lot of argument over what to do with her, now that the US army had successfully created their very own super soldier. Her father had put his foot down, told the government in no uncertain terms that his daughter was not going overseas to fight in the war._

 _The government, and the army had pushed back on that decision, stating that since the serum that now flowed in her veins had been the property of the US government, technically she was now the property of the US government, and now the US army._

 _She hadn't told Nik what had been going on, while all of this had been happening. In retrospect she knows that she probably should have written to him, shared this life changing news with him. But a part of her couldn't burden him with this, not when he was fighting in the trenches for his life._

 _She could read between the lines of his letters. He always wrote so beautifully, about the greenery around him, the colour of the sky after the guns had stopped firing, the feeling of the mud beneath his boots._

 _But she knew that he was just writing about these things, so he wouldn't have to subject her to the horrors that he'd seen, participated in._

 _His last letter had arrived a month ago, and she hadn't heard from him since. It terrified her, not knowing if he was dead or alive, that she might miss the telegram heralding news of his death if she set sail for England._

 _But his absence had made her more determined, and although she was technically being forced to go to war, a part of her wanted to go. To find Nik, to make sure he was okay, to find out if he was dead or alive._

 _"You know what I mean Caroline." Lyanna interrupts her train of thought. "Are you going to be okay?"_

 _She just pastes a smile on her face, for the benefit of the driver who is probably eavesdropping on every word of their conversation._

 _"I don't have a choice, do I?"_

 _They both fall silent as the Jeep crests a hill and the training camp comes into view._

 _It's a miserable looking collection of huts, mist clinging to the ground like a shroud, the cold apparent to her even through the thick jacket of her uniform._

 _"Well this is…" Lyanna trails off, lost for words as to how to describe the tableau before her._

 _The square they pull into his bustling, a platoon of soldiers marching past them in formation, barely even looking twice at her despite her very obvious femininity._

 _They hadn't forced her to cut her hair short, but it was pulled back into a business like bun beneath her cap, shielding her most recognisable features._

 _"You've become something of a hero over here." Lyanna begins as they disembark from the Jeep. The older woman leads her towards some waiting officers, who salute her at the same time as she does._

 _"Captain Forbes. Welcome. Thank you for coming."_

 _Captain America had been a nick name that she'd picked up, once word had got out that the super soldier serum had been successful. It was a bit too patriotic for her liking, but if it meant that she could go mostly incognito outside of the photo shoots that she'd done back home, she'd take it._

 _"General Macarthur. A pleasure, thank you for the invitation."_

 _The General gives her an easygoing smile, and she shudders when she realises that it's bordering on flirtatious. That had been the less desirable part of her transformation, the open leers that she got from men when she walked down the street or attended an army function._

 _The Officers all smile and move off, a camp aide stepping into place beside her._

 _"If you'll come this way Captain, I'll show you to your quarters."_

 _"Thank you." She replies with a grateful smile. She turns to Lyanna, who's casting her gaze over the camp with a critical gaze. "I'll catch up with you later?"_

 _"I've got some meetings." Lyanna replies absentmindedly, waving her away._

 _She's only taken three steps after the aide when the sound of her name spoken by a very familiar voice stops her in her tracks._

 _She turns, eyes landing on Nik in split seconds. She'd know his voice anywhere. He looks exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, and he's staring at her like he's seeing a ghost or a mirage._

 _They meet halfway, bodies colliding as he sweeps her up into his arms, lips covering hers in the next moment._

 _Hoots and wolf whistles echo around the camp, but she can hardly bring herself to care, cradling his face between her hands as she deepens the kiss._

 _When they break apart she's breathing a little heavier than she had been before, and his eyes are dark and hazy as he brushes his thumb over her lips. His gaze roves, takes in the sharp, crisp lines of her US army uniform._

 _And then he frowns, his expression thunderous._

 _"Caroline, what the hell are you doing here?"_

 _Shit._

* * *

 **AN: I told you I'd continue this one eventually, right? right? I think I'll continue with the flashbacks, I'm quite enjoying telling the dual stories of current and WWII days.**

 **Hope you enjoyed, see you on the other side for the next chapter!**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Insert usual disclaimer here.**

* * *

 _New York, 2017_

In the end, everything blows over, comes out in the wash. Eventually, the world gets used to the idea of Hydra being a thing. The remaining intelligence organisations, helped along by Salvatore Industries, pool their resources to stamp out the last pockets of the malevolent organisation poisoning the American Dream.

She makes it back to New York, Katherine and Stefan in tow. She doesn't tell them about the conversation she had with Klaus on the roof, the flicker of recognition she saw in his eyes when he glanced at the photograph she'd pushed into his hands.

They'd ended up in Damon Salvatore's building, staying in one of the many purpose built three bedroom apartments that he was considering selling for commercial purposes.

He hadn't asked any questions when they'd turned up on his doorstep, bruised and worn and weary of the world. He'd just pressed a keycard into Stefan's hand, waving them towards the bank of elevators, promising to catch up with them later.

He'd been in meetings all week, something about converting Salvatore Tower into clean energy, so they wouldn't be so reliant on the New York power grid.

She doesn't tell Katherine that she's already packed a bag, waiting until the rest of the world had fallen asleep.

Klaus was alone out there, and possibly vulnerable to being repossessed by Hydra. She certainly didn't underestimate the ability of the organisation to bring the Winter Soldier back under it's control.

The results if that happened would certainly be devastating. She'd floated the idea one afternoon, to Stefan and Katherine. Stefan had looked resigned to the idea of heading out and hunting down Hydra to the last remaining operative, but it was Katherine that had vocally disagreed with her idea.

"You want to paint a target on your back?" The other woman had asked incredulously, once she'd finished outlining her plan. "Because that's certainly the quickest way to do it."

"We've already got targets on our back, whether we like it or not." She'd argued back quickly, Stefan nodding thoughtfully in agreement.

"Going out and blowing up every Hydra base on continental soil and overseas isn't going to bring your lover back."

It had been a low blow, and Katerina had known it at the time. She'd been sorely tempted to throw a punch, but had instead gotten up, stalking out of the room and taking her anger out on a training dummy in the gym.

The others had left her alone for hours, and when she finally made it back to the apartment, Katerina was waiting for her at the kitchen table, a bottle of Russian vodka in front of her.

"I'm sorry." Katerina begins, pouring them both out a shot, pushing one of them towards her.

She deposits herself into one of the wooden chairs, knocking back the shot with an easy motion. It took a lot to get her drunk these days, what with the super soldier metabolism. But she still hated the burn of vodka as it went down, and she can't help but shudder.

"Pour me another?" She asks, pushing her glass back towards Katerina.

The Black Widow complies.

What follows is one of the most intensely personal conversations that she's ever had with anyone, her therapist aside. She doesn't hold anything back, tells Katerina every detail about her relationship with Nik, how serious it was, how much it hurt to lose him and then get him back in all his fractured, patchwork messiness.

Except it wasn't the same, because she didn't have him back. A part of her thinks that she might not ever get him back. Not after everything they've both been through.

"Stark's having a benefit gala on Friday. He wants us to be there, thinks that it will be good PR for us after we destroyed half of Washington by downing those three helicarriers." Katerina remarks dryly, knocking back her own shot. "I can't say that I disagree with the logic behind his request."

She just sighs, running a hand through her hair.

"Do I have to go?" She asks with a sigh. "You know how much I hate those things."

"People are going to want to see that you're okay, after what happened in Washington. Despite the billions of dollars worth of damage that we caused, somehow you're still America's hero Cap."

Katerina salutes her with the shot glass, holding it aloft before doing another shot.

"God I can't believe I'm doing this." The other woman mumbles to herself, before pinning her with an intense gaze. "Look, I'm sorry that I was so vocal with disagreeing with you before. But shit, after what you've just told me, if you want to go after Hydra, then I'm in. But we need to wait until after the gala before we go all vigilante on their arses. Agreed?"

She clinks her glass against Katerina before nodding once.

"Agreed."

The vodka had never tasted as sweet.

* * *

The dress that Katerina manages to procure for her is a shocking, form fitting scarlet. It's not something that she would have been caught dead in back in the 1940's, and looking at herself in the mirror, she can't help but feel uncomfortable in her own skin, the dress skimming her curves, accentuating her hips and breasts.

It's a dress designed to help her stand out in a crowd.

"There's room for a thigh holster." Katerina had pointed out helpfully, like that made everything better.

She knows what the other woman had planned for tonight. It's sweet, in a twisted kind of way, that Katerina was willing to go to such lengths to draw in The Winter Soldier.

"He's not going to come." She turns to face Katerina, who's looking resplendent in a gown of form fitting black, her eyes smoked out with make up. The effect was devastating and intriguing all at once.

Katerina grips her by the shoulders, turning her back around gently so she's facing the mirror once more. She barely recognises herself.

"He'd be stupid not to come."

The gala is everything that she hates about high society New York. She used to be one of them, decades ago when the city was still growing. But now, she can't take the fake smiles, the constant whispering behind well manicured hands as she and Katerina navigate their way slowly through the party.

They end up at the bar, glass in hand as they survey the crowd together. She'd seen Stefan earlier, but he'd since disappeared, no doubt to escape the clutches of his brother. The two Salvatores had an odd relationship that she hadn't quite figured out just yet.

It had been Kat that had filled in the gaps for her that night, how Stefan had technically dated Elena Gilbert first, how in love the two of them had been, how Elena had cheated on Stefan with Damon.

It made her dislike Damon just that little bit more. The two brothers had never really mended their fences, and reportedly Stefan hated these things just as much as she did.

So after she finishes her drink, she does her best to mix and mingle, to repair some of the damage that she and Katerina and Stefan had created in Washington.

If Damon seemed even a little bit pissed off about the loss of billions of dollars worth of tech, he didn't outwardly show it to the world. Seemingly that kind of money was disposable to him, because he'd been nothing but hospitable ever since they'd all shown up on his doorstep like three runaway strays.

She's in conversation with a field agent from the CIA when she feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. It's an odd feeling, one that she only gets when she just _knows_ that something isn't quite right, like something is out of place.

When she turns, he's there, like he just appeared from thin air. He's shaved, cut his hair since he saw her last, and he's wearing white evening gloves that are just a touch too formal for this kind of event, but hide his metal arm and hand fairly effectively.

He looks like home, achingly familiar and unfamiliar all at once as she drinks in the sight of him, glass still held tightly in her hand.

He holds out a gloved hand for her, steady gaze pinning her in place.

"Dance with me."

It's not a question or a command, the tone that he delivers it in just a little too flat, a little too robotic for her liking.

Almost subconsciously she feels for her thigh holster, for the small pistol that she'd slipped into it after Katerina had left the room. She wasn't a complete idiot, she knew very well that this whole thing could be a trap and that she could be in danger.

The thought continued to occur to her, even as she handed off her glass to a waiter and placed her hand in his.

"I'm surprised to see you here." She begins, after they'd settled into the rhythm of the music, an orchestral version of an Ed Sheeran song that filters lightly through the room.

The room is still loud, the roar of conversation drowning out almost everything else as they sway softly for a few beats.

"I was in Washington. There's an exhibition there, about you." Klaus replies almost mechanically, glancing over her shoulder for a moment, eyes narrowing before he's returning his gaze to her.

"Is there? I hadn't realised." She remarks faintly, because _that_ was something that she was still getting used to, being such a public figure.

"there was a picture of me, standing next to you. Were we friends?" Klaus asks softly, gripping her waist gently as they navigate around a couple.

She takes a breath in as her eyes flick towards him, trying to see if he's just bullshitting her or if he's genuinely forgot everything that he told her.

"We were in love. You asked me to marry you." She tells him softly, trying not to let him know just how much this conversation is killing her.

He's far too perceptive for his own good though, tucks some hair behind her ear.

"You're hurt. I'm sorry." He tells her in what he probably believes is a sincere tone.

"Will you… will you come with me?" She leans in towards him, making sure that only he can hear her words.

There's something that she wants to show him, the countless web pages that people had written about them, theorising about their relationship. Some of them were bullshit, but a few of them were surprisingly accurate.

She'd saved a few, hoping that she might cross paths with him again.

To be honest, she's not quite sure what she's trying to achieve as she leads him silently towards the elevators, meeting Katerina's narrow eyed gaze with a defiant tilt of her chin.

There are about 11 ways that he could kill her as the elevator ascends to the floor that she's staying on, but he remains silent, leaning up against the back wall of the elevator car, hands stuffed into the pockets of his surprisingly well tailored suit.

He's hesitant when she gestures for him to step into her apartment. His eyes are glancing everywhere, taking in the furniture, the possible hiding spots for someone to conceal themselves in as she leads him towards the slim laptop is resting on a sleek, glass desk.

Like everything that had been given to her by Damon Salvatore, it was top of the line tech, accessible only be her unique fingerprint.

Klaus, seemingly finished his silent sweep of her apartment, is looking at her uncertainly, gloved hands clenching and unclenching as he stares at her.

"Just, sit down. Please." She asks quietly, waving him towards the chair once she's finished loading up one of the many pages for him. "Just read this, okay?"

She turns her back on him, an enormous sign of trust given only a few days ago they'd been fighting for their lives, trying to kill each other.

She's not entirely stupid, she can see his reflection in the floor to ceiling glass, can tell that he's sitting down with a resigned sigh.

It makes her heart ache, that sigh. The countless times she's heard it over the years in happier circumstances…

It drives her almost to insanity, the soft glimpses of humanity that she sees beneath the mask that he wears for the rest of the world, the impassive, calm look on his face that belies just how alert he is at all times.

He hadn't even looked her over once, despite the plenty of admiring glances she'd received from practically every male in the room downstairs.

 _That_ makes her heart ache as well.

Even in the earliest days of their relationship he'd always looked at her like she was his whole world, like she was beautiful, the only thing that mattered. The only thing that ever mattered.

The room is almost completely silent, the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece the only noise, her breathing slow, steady as she watches his reflection in the mirror, his shoulders hunched over as he reads from the screen in front of him.

She's not sure if any of the words are registering in his mind, a well researched account of their lives and all that had occurred between them- the tragedy that had torn them apart, that had stopped them from marrying before she'd put the plane down in the ice.

She sees him move, in the reflection of the glass. He's almost silent as he gets to his feet, bracing himself against the desk for a moment before turning to face her.

She meets him halfway, holding his curious gaze with a stubborn tilt of her chin.

"Caroline." His voice is rough, crystalline eyes bright in the darkness, the weight of history hanging heavy between them.

She swallows audibly, taking a step towards him, taking his hand, the one made from flesh and bone. It's warm, beneath the material of his glove, and she can't help but bring it up to rest against her cheek, closing her eyes for a moment.

He could crush her skull with one twitch of his fingers, something she is very much aware of as she inhales and exhales, opening her eyes.

His eyes are brimming with emotion, and a part of her knows, just _knows_ that he's remembered something. But she doesn't want to push him, even as Klaus' hand lingers against the skin of her cheek.

"Caroline." He repeats again with a melodious laugh, like he can hardly believe that he's saying the name out loud. "You're alive." His voice is full of a child like wonder, his brow furrowing with confusion as he tries to figure out how it is so.

"Yes." She whispers, choking on a sob as he steps towards her, steps closer.

It's testament to just how wrapped up in this moment she is that she doesn't register the front door that had been previously been locked flying open.

She _does_ register the steady stream of black ops soldiers pouring into the room, led by Katerina, who had changed out of her dress and into field clothes- black pants, boots, and a shirt.

Klaus moves faster than she would have thought possible, a deadly blur as he launches himself towards the nearest soldier.

"What the hell Kat?" She spits out violently as one of the soldiers grabs her roughly by the upper arm.

She stomps down hard on the soldiers foot, her stiletto no doubt doing some serious damage to his foot, if the satisfying crack and his howl of pain was anything to go by.

Across the room, Klaus had been subdued by three soldiers. They'd tackled him to the ground in the end, his arms twisted tightly behind his back as Klaus had struggled against their hold.

One of them looks to Katerina for instruction, and she gives him a curt nod.

"Put him down. Both of them."

She watches in horror as one of the men injects something into Klaus' neck, the sharp pinprick against her own skin telling her that someone has done the same for her.

Her vision swims in front of her eyes as she sways from side to side slowly, blinking furiously, trying to get her bearings.

Katerina stops in front of her, a gun held in her hands and a regretful smile in place.

"I'm sorry Caroline. Really I am. But I can't run the risk of you getting killed because of him."

It's the last thing she hears before the darkness overtakes her.

* * *

 _France, 1943_

 _Once Klaus gets over his initial anger at seeing her dressed in a uniform and ready for war, she pulls him aside and tells him everything._

 _The mess hall is dimly lit, and this late at night, they're the only two permitted in the building. Lyanna had pulled a few strings, had released Klaus from his watch duty for the night so that they could catch up._

 _The commanding officers had scarcely been able to refuse her, given the clout that Lyanna had back in America, working for the government on all sorts of top secret projects. That, and the fact that she'd delivered a weapon to them that could help turn the tide of the war._

 _There are tired lines under Klaus' eyes, lines that hadn't been there the night before he'd shipped out, so young and carefree. She knew he'd seen action at the front, had recently been injured and had been sent back home to recuperate. He'd kept silent on the extent of the injury, and she hadn't pushed him for details._

 _The hollow look in his eyes when he held her gaze spoke volumes._

 _When she finally finishes her story, which sounds outlandish even to her ears, Klaus climbs over the table separating them and slides onto the bench next to her, pulling her into his arms. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't have to._

 _She lets herself fall apart in his arms, tears soaking into the front of his jacket as she buries her face into the crook of his shoulder. All of the months of worry and argument over her and her body, a body which was now a weapon._

 _Of not knowing if he was okay._

 _"I am so sorry that this has happened to you." He murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. He pauses for a long moment, resting his cheek against the top of her head as she clutches him closer._

 _"I'm glad you're okay." She pulls away from him, resting her head on his shoulder as he wraps an arm around her waist._

 _For a few heartbeats, they sit silently togehter, content to be in each other's company._

 _"How is it going?"_

 _Klaus knows what she's asking him to reveal to her. Back home in America, the propaganda machine is in full motion, painting them as the saviours of the boys at the front, of turning the tide of the fight._

 _"Badly." Klaus replies bluntly, rubbing a hand wearily over his face. "We've suffered heavy losses and haven't gained a lot of ground. We all thought that the troop replenishment would be more effective, but we're outgunned."_

 _She nods to herself, expecting this. He glances at her warily, as if he can read her mind, know what she's thinking._

 _"Caroline, you can't win this one for us."_

 _She stands, squeezing him by the shoulder as she gives him a tired smile._

 _"Maybe, maybe not. But I can damn well try."_

 _They ship out to the front the very next morning, after she's been introduced to the squad of soldiers that she finds herself embedded in._

 _There's Lucien, an Italian American born and raised in the Bronx. Joshua is from Nashville Tennessee, with an accent to match. Marcel, Vincent, and Theirry hailed from New Orleans, went through high school together before getting drafted._

 _They're so, so young, too young to be caught up in such an awful conflict._

 _She can hear the sound of the guns, the sonic boom from miles away. The haunted looks on the faces of the men sitting around her as they flinch with each deep sound._

 _The forest around them, in contrast, is silent._

 _"How far are we going?" She asks over the stillness of the morning._

 _"All the way to the front."_

* * *

 ** _AN:_ These two really do break my heart when I write in this universe. We'll get there fam, promise!**

 **This story is going to be a fairly short one- See you on the other side!**


End file.
